In that way, I don't understand myself. It might have to do with my own conflicts, where to place my body as a child, which I have carried over to now. In this way I'm constantly dislocated.

I came to realize this weird projection: you are much more passionate about hating something outside of you when you know that something is also in you.

No one, evidently, except me has found "No Alarms" poem ironical that an obsessive theme in my writing was - and has continued to be - not being able to write.

I want, I want, I want! We never grow out of it somehow. Unless we become Buddhists, maybe.

When people say "the body," frequently they mean the literal body, the physical body.

My recent retirement from full-time teaching to the status of research professor at University of California-Santa Barbara (UCSB) encouraged me to come out, so to speak.

One should be able to teach adequately and feel good about it.